A Certfiable Solstice
by royza-hawkstang
Summary: What should be a nice, relaxing holiday turns into something far more hellish. Royai, no major spoilers. Happy Holidays, everyone.


_A/N: I would normally dedicate this fully to my readers and reviewers: you all need to know that you are so very appreciated. But today, I also need to dedicate this piece to my dad. He may not have understood why I like anime and cosplay, but I know he loved me, and that he was proud of what I've made of my life. He supported me throughout my education, and throughout my learning to write the way I do. Thank you so much, Daddy. Love you always._

_I do not own FMA._

* * *

><p><span><strong>A Certifiable Solstice<strong>

Soft music spilled from the radio that was all too often silent, weaving around the tiny apartment awash in the yellow glow from the bedside lamp. Lying supine on the soft comforter, deep in the sleep of someone truly exhausted, was Riza Hawkeye.

A cold, curious nose eased over the side of the bed, sniffing cautiously, before the rest of his snout followed. Dark eyes watched his mistress intently, tail beginning to swish softly along the floorboards. He crouched, haunches tensing to propel him upwards —

And across the room, the telephone sent up an insistent ring.

Jolting awake, reflexively half-rising, Riza's breath came in a short gasp. Brown eyes darted briefly around the apartment before settling on the telephone; she relaxed visibly, before climbing over the papers spread around her to get to her feet.

Hayate followed her across to the table, prancing happily around her feet. That earned him a tired smile as she lifted the receiver on the fourth ring and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Hey._" The cheerful voice on the other end abruptly sobered. "_…Were you sleeping? You sound dragged out._"

Settling into one of the chairs, Riza propped her chin up with her free hand. "I was asleep, yes. I was going through the witness statements from the newest investigation, and I must have dozed off." A small, halfway sleepy smile played around her mouth. "What are you doing, calling me at this hour, sir?"

"_Well, it's only eight-thirty, so I figure I'm well within normal phone-call-making boundaries,_" Roy answered teasingly. "_And my motives for calling are entirely innocent._"

"As innocent as the cat that ate the canary, but I'm listening."

"_…Oh, you're a_ riot," he muttered. Riza smiled, able to clearly visualize the implied eye-roll. "_Havoc cornered me before he went on leave today; wanted to give me his Solstice gift before he left._" A slight pause. "_I now have a book of fifty gift certificates to what has to be every restaurant, bar, cafe, and hole-in-the-wall diner in East City._"

Eyebrows lifting, Riza reached down to scratch behind Hayate's ears as he pushed against her leg. "Impressive. Is he trying to get into your good books for some reason?" Her smile turned devious. "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all."

"_Stop it. After tonight, no more conversations when you've just been woken up; you go all loopy._" Roy huffed a breath. "_The reason I called was to ask if you'd be interested in helping me use these things up._" His own smile appeared audibly. "_Don't worry: no flowers, no vases needed._"

Laughing softly to herself, Riza settled back in the chair. "Touche, sir. I'd be happy to help."

"_Great. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes, unless you need more time to get ready._"

"I — what?" Frowning, she glanced at the clock; still only eight-forty. "We're starting tonight?"

"_Well yeah. These things are for all kinds of establishments, and there's no sense wasting time. Besides, no one should sit home alone on Solstice Eve. See you in a bit._" With no further warning, he hung up, and Riza was left to resignedly shake her head and rise to get dressed.

* * *

><p>Sitting at the pedestal table, her arms folded comfortably on the polished wooden surface, Riza's eyes watched the fingers of the upright bass player as they deftly plucked the strings of his massive instrument. "You know, I never really liked soft jazz until I got to know you," she murmured.<p>

"Really?" Taking a last swallow from the tumbler in his hand, Roy smirked. "Guess it's one of those things that sort of grows on you. Like me."

That drew a smile, Riza's gaze going from the band at the front of the bar to her drinking partner. "Lots of things grow on other things," she remarked casually, lifting her own glass. "Mould, fungus —"

Roy shook his head as she took a sip. "Now you're tired and buzzed. The sarcasm has ratcheted up another level." He tapped a warning finger against her arm. "Careful; one of these times, you might say something that actually insults me."

"Sorry." Setting her empty glass down, she patted his hand reassuringly. "I'll keep a lid on it. Though I should point out, you're most likely more buzzed than I am." She indicated his glass. "You've had stronger drinks so far."

He shrugged easily, catching her hand and threading his fingers through hers. "I like a good whisky; this place has good whisky. It's certainly stronger than whatever it was you were drinking." He leaned forward, looking at the last few drops in her glass. "Out of curiosity…what were you drinking?"

"I'm not entirely sure. From the colour, I'd have to guess it contains blue curacao, but there was a tiny bit of… I think gin? And of course—" She plucked the thin slice of lemon from the rim and wiggled it in mild emphasis. "The tiniest touch of sour, not that I used it." She dropped the fruit back into the shallow martini glass. "It's not what I ordered, but according to the bartender, it was half-price for anyone showing a military ID." She tapped her pocket. "I got carded; showed him that one instead of my civilian one by mistake."

"Really." Eyebrows lifted in light surprise, Roy settled back in his chair. "This drink have a name?"

"Well, it's a drink created in honour of the military." She smirked, propping her chin in one hand. "They're calling it a 'Boy in Blue.' Not sure how that translates to it being drunk by a woman." Flicking her bangs from her eyes, she got to her feet. "We still have two certificates for this place; want me to get you one?"

"Sure; I'm game." Tearing a pair of papers from the booklet before him on the table, he passed them to her. "Don't be gone too long; there's a group of about four men by the bar that have been staring at you off and on ever since you picked up the first round of drinks."

Slipping off the tall chair, she favoured him with a tiny smile. "If I'm not back in five minutes, you may storm the gates."

The small crowd around the bar parted easily for a beautiful woman, especially one as well-adapted to moving through groups as Riza. Folding both arms on the polished wooden surface, she made eye contact with the bartender, receiving a 'just a minute' gesture. Her attention turned to the drink selection printed on chalkboards behind the wide array of bottles, idly scanning through the names for anything remotely interesting.

A voice spoke up from her right. "Shame to make a pretty thing like you wait for her drink." She turned to find a man standing less than two feet away — well inside her personal space — leaning one arm casually on the bar. "The bartender's got no manners."

"I wait in bank lines, at traffic lights, and streetcar stops; what's a little more waiting?" Riza answered nonchalantly, directing her attention forward again in a clear signal to drop the conversation.

"That's what I'm saying, though. You wait so much already, you should be entitled to things like this when you want them." He leaned even closer, making the smell of vodka evident on the breath that wafted past her nose.

"Then you'll understand that I'm entitled to ask you to leave," she said flatly, dropping all pretense at politeness now that it was clear subtle hints would not work. Her head turned slightly in his direction, delivering the same dangerously deadpan glare that so often sent opposing soldiers on their way.

The man did take an surprised step back, but he was either too drunk or too unobservant to receive the full effect of the look. "Sheesh, lady, settle down. I was just making small talk."

She was given a reprieve from his slurred defense by the arrival of the bartender. Placing the order, she settled in, watching as the drinks were mixed, trying to commit the recipe to memory. Maybe it would bear mentioning to Madame Christmas, for use at her bar. If anything, it might help attract customers —

"Look, all I'm saying is that I was just trying to start a conversation and you don't have to be a bitch about it."

Reining in the urge to sigh in exasperation, Riza turned — hopefully for the last time — to face her harasser. "And all I'm saying is that when a lady shows clear signs that she doesn't want to talk to you, pushing the envelope is only going to get you in trouble." As she spoke, she reached into her pocket and removed a small black folder, opening it to show both her military identification and her firearm qualification. "Does that make it clear enough for you?"

The man stared at the folder's contents, squinting as he tried to focus, then abruptly transferred his gaze to the watching, waiting bartender and the two completed drinks. "…Yeah, sure. Crystal."

"Good." Tucking her ID away, Riza took both drinks, left the gift certificates on the bar, and expertly worked her way back to the table where Roy was watching guardedly.

He didn't stir as she set his drink in front of him, though his eyes followed her closely. "Trouble?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

* * *

><p>The first clue that something was wrong was something that, for a normal person, would have been totally innocuous. Gently swirling her drink in its glass, Riza hummed quietly along with the soft song the band had started up.<p>

Roy frowned, his eyes going from her, to the glass, and back again. It was only her second drink, and it was only half gone…. She could hold her alcohol much better than that.

"You okay?"

"Hm?" She lifted her head, smiling distractedly. "I'm fine. Why?"

That smile. There had been the barest flash of teeth. Riza _never_ showed teeth in a smile; at least never in public like this. At home was a different story. Was she far enough gone that she thought she was somewhere else? "You're just acting… weird." He forced a half-felt smirk. "Don't tell me the alcohol has gone to your head already?"

"No, no, I'm just —" Her brows drew together and she swallowed a yawn. "—really tired." Her expression cleared into a somewhat drowsy smile. No teeth this time. "Sorry — I guess if I was tired enough to fall asleep before we went out, I'm tired enough to fall asleep at the bar."

"I'm sorry." Reaching out, he gently touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. "We'll finish this drink and head out. Okay?"

"Sure." Riza looked down at her glass as his hand dropped away. "This one tastes a little more bitter than the last one. Must have gotten some of the lemon into it."

He wasn't sure what it was, but something about that statement made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Then it clicked. "Riza… lemons are sour, not bitter."

"No, this is definitely bitter. I know sour; sour makes me sneeze." She shrugged, giving in to the yawn this time. "That's why I don't like sour candy."

"…Let me see yours for a second." Without waiting for her consent, he reached across and lifted her glass to his nose. No smell, other than the mix of alcohols and the lemon wedge. No sign of anything wiped around the rim or in the bottom of the glass. He took a tiny sip, rolling the taste around his mouth… and there it was.

Riza was watching him with a raised eyebrow. "Is this some cute couples' thing? Am I supposed to take a drink of yours now?"

"No." He set the glass back on the table and got to his feet, helping her to do the same. "Now, you get your coat and get it on, because we're leaving." Face grim, he gently laid a hand on her shoulder and steered her toward the coat check just inside the door.

For a moment, she was simply confused, before her expression settled into annoyed disgust. "Don't tell me that jerk from the bar was coming my way again."

"No, but in another few minutes, he might have been." Stopping just long enough to retrieve their coats, he helped Riza into hers before guiding her outside.

She glanced back over her shoulder as the door swung closed behind them. "What do you mean, 'he might have been'?" Tucking her hands into her pockets, she let him lead her toward the car, a block away. "Was he looking at me, or something?"

Roy hesitated, then stopped her, making sure he had full attention, or at least as much as her fogged mind possessed. "If I tell you why I rushed you out of there, do you promise not to freak out?" Riza frowned, then nodded, the expression lending extra seriousness to the gesture. "…I think your drink was spiked."

"_WHAT?!_"

He levelled a finger at her. "That's freaking out. You said you wouldn't."

Riza's voice dropped to a whisper, though her tone was no less incredulous. "What?!"

Easing an arm around her shoulders, Roy started her toward the car once again. "I've spent enough time in my aunt's bar — watching her deal with anyone who tried to mess with the girls — to know what it's like when someone gets drugged. She also forced me to learn what sleeping powders taste like in alcohol. Those that can be tasted, anyway."

"Really?" She pressed close against his side — much the same way she did when she slept — her tone more curious than angry now. "So who do you think spiked it?"

Fishing the keys from his pocket, he worked the ring around in his hand until her reached the car key. "Well, the obvious suspect is the man who was trying to chat you up beside the bar." He stopped her beside the passenger door, reaching past her to unlock it. "Either him, or an accomplice to slip it into your drink when your back was turned."

Frowning again, Riza allowed him to ease her gently into the car. "Funny…. You'd think the bartender would have seen something and warned me."

Something like fire flicked angrily to life in Roy's chest. "…Unless it _was_ the bartender. Get you drugged and vulnerable enough for a set of goons to drag you off, in return for a shot at you himself?"

A wide grin spread across her mouth as her head lolled back against the headrest. "Never take a shot at a sharpshooter," she murmured, more drowsily than ever. One hand lifted in a wave. "Better get me out of here, sir, before someone starts to think that _you're_ taking advantage of me."

"Like I'd be that stupid." Closing the door, he circled to his own side, dark eyes flicking around the street in search of anything out of place. Roy settled into the driver's seat and turned the engine over, giving Riza one last glance; she sat with her eyes half-open, staring out the front window with an odd look of concentration. "…What are you thinking about?"

For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then, softly, "About how I'm going to come back here tomorrow and beat some answers out of that bartender."

He couldn't help it. Chuckling quietly, he pulled away from the curb, driving slowly toward her apartment. "Okay."

* * *

><p>"…I was gone for ten minutes."<p>

Standing in the tiny entryway of his apartment, drying her hands on a dishtowel, Riza smiled in satisfaction. "And ten minutes was all I needed to bring some semblance of tidiness to your quote, 'organized mess,' unquote." The smile didn't waver in the face of the mild glare he sent her as he bent to untie his boots. "Relax. All I did was wash your dishes and straighten a few things."

"Okay." Lifting the bag, he held it out to her. "Mind taking care of that for a minute?"

Balancing the stiff paper in one hand, she stepped back into the kitchen area to toss the towel onto the counter. "Have you heard any further from your aunt? Before I got here, that is?"

"No, nothing." Hanging his coat from the hook behind the door, Roy tried not to let his mouth twist in concern. "I mean, I'm not worried, but I'd still like to know if there's anything I could do to help."

"From what you told me, it sounds like she's got plenty of help already." Riza was lifting the containers of takeout from the bag as Roy entered the tiny kitchen; she occasionally lifted onto her toes to see inside. "It's only Vanessa and Madeline that have the flu, and at least two of the other girls were helping run the place and look after them. No offence, but you might only get in the way."

Retrieving dishes from the their cupboard and setting them beside her, Roy began removing container lids. "I know, I know…. It's just… the last time I felt this powerless, I was blind." He shrugged. "I guess it's just sending me back to that."

Riza paused, studying him in profile; he didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on his task. Finally, she touched a hand to his arm. "I think I have something that will take your mind off it." She planted a swift kiss on his cheek, then turned to the tiny closet inside the door.

Mystified, Roy took a pair of steps after her… and came to a surprised stop as she produced a box wrapped in pale green paper with a white ribbon wrapped around it. She said nothing, merely offering it to him with a small smile. He took it carefully, weighing it in both hands. "What's this?"

"Most people refer to it as a Solstice gift," Riza said matter-of-factly. "Most people also say thank you and don't question the gift-giver."

He broke into a grin. "Thanks. Though if we're exchanging gifts now…." Taking a step backward, he pulled open a tiny cupboard to his left and produced a thick, red-wrapped package. "Fair is fair."

"Touché, sir."

"You first."

He watched as she leaned one hip against the counter, carefully easing a fingernail underneath an edge of paper and starting a tear. It ripped with a satisfying sound, falling away to reveal a stack of three paperback books. Roy had a brief thrill of happy satisfaction as he caught the way those brown eyes lit up.

"'The Ryan Thompson Novels'," she read aloud from the front cover. Her head tilted to one side. "I don't think I've heard of this author before."

"Not surprising; he's from Creta. Not a lot of his work has made it into Amestris." Roy shrugged self-consciously. "It's a trilogy series; mystery novels. But I thought it sounded like something you might be interested in."

"Absolutely." Looking up, Riza smiled brightly. "I haven't got a lot of time to read, but when I do, I prefer to have something new. Thank you." She nodded toward the box in his hands. "Your turn."

It was the work of a moment to tug the ribbon aside and pull the paper off enough to realize what the box was. "Hey…." He had to turn it to read the embossed printing on the lid. "'Historical Quizzer.' Oh!" He tapped an understanding finger against the box as he looked up. "The board game Breda was talking about a few weeks ago! History, social structure, and cultural trivia from all over, right?"

"Right." An only slightly sly smile curved Riza's mouth. "I figured that if anyone has a chance of beating him at it, it's you or Falman. Either way, it sounds fun." Her finger pointed to the side facing away from him. "Though it's not just those topics. Things like science, sports, arts, entertainment…. We may have to give it a try on New Year's."

"Sounds good to me." Transferring it to a one-handed grip, he crossed the short gap between them, leaning down to kiss her. "Thank you. Happy Solstice, Whiskygirl."

"Same to you." Setting the books on the counter, she gestured to the waiting food. "Why don't we try a practice trivia round while we eat? Keep you thinking of something else besides feeling useless?"

* * *

><p>The day after Solstice was usually very relaxing for Roy Mustang. He wasn't expected back at work, he was under no pressure to be anywhere…. It was a day that was, to him, universally synonymous with relaxation and (more often than not) spending at least six hours with Riza and leaving her bed only when absolutely necessary.<p>

Except for this year.

Lying flat on his back, massaging an aching forehead with one hand as the other held the telephone receiver to his ear, Roy waited for her to pick up. Three rings… four … five…. Belatedly, he realized he had dialled the office phone number, not her home phone.

Nice job, genius, he thought in annoyance, turning over to depress the plunger and dial the correct digits. He didn't bother to roll onto his back again, lying still as the phone began ringing again. Four… five… six…. He was just beginning to get worried when she answered.

"_Hello?_"

"Hey." He instantly relaxed, just the sound of her voice able to soothe his overprotective tendencies. "How are you?"

"_… I've been better._"

So much for relaxation. Roy winced at the implication, already able to guess at what the problem must be. "Uh oh…. I was hoping I hadn't passed anything along, but they say you never feel sick while you're contagious. I'm sorry."

There was a significant pause on the other end of the line. "_What you have…. It feels like the flu?_"

He shrugged. "I don't see how it could be anything else. You think differently?"

"_Yes. Symptom check: vomiting, severe stomach cramps, but no fever?_"

Something close to dread began creeping over him, setting off shivers from the chills he already had. "Check, check, and check…." He swallowed hard. "Riza, what are you trying to tell me this is?"

"_…Have you ever had food poisoning before?_"

For a long moment, he simply stared at the ceiling. He briefly contemplated sitting up, but a twinge from his already unsteady stomach vetoed that idea. "No, I haven't…." Bringing a weary hand to eyes, he blew out a long breath. "But it makes sense. And I bet I know where it started."

There was a rueful smile colouring Riza's words when she spoke. "_A certain bag of takeout from yesterday?_"

"Specifically, the Aerugonian takeout. It was one of the places in that certificate booklet." His hand dropped back to his side. "I probably should have known better — it was tucked away on some little side street, almost the literal definition of a hole-in-the-wall — but with limited options on Solstice…."

"_I know,_" she soothed, her voice certainly more calm than his. "_This happens sometimes with Aerugonian food. They employ a lot of some kind of spice; if your system isn't used to it, or you wait too long between finishing cooking and serving it…._" Dry humour crept into her voice. "_Well, I think we've seen first-hand what happens._"

His already uneasy stomach flipped abruptly at the sudden mental imagery of his memory. "…Listen, Riza, can I call you back in about ten minutes? I think I'm about to be temporarily busy…."

* * *

><p>The first work day of the new year usually left him feeling like it was a chore to drag himself back to work. But for some reason, Jean Havoc was practically buoyant as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. It was cold, even for January, but brilliantly sunny and clear. The good weather could only lighten his mood.<p>

The same could not be said for the two people he found when he entered the office.

"Morning, Boss; Lieutenant." He worked his way out of his coat before depositing it on the rack inside the door. "Have a good Solstice?"

"There have been better ones."

He froze instinctively at the chill displeasure in the Colonel's voice. Neither he nor Hawkeye were smiling, both standing behind Mustang's desk with unreadable expressions. "Oh…. What happened?" Havoc adopted a sympathetic look, trying hard for a casual tone of voice. "You didn't get called in to work, did you? Administration loves revoking holiday hours off if they can, but —"

"Nothing like that." Taking a small booklet from her pocket, Hawkeye tossed it onto the desk. "The Colonel believes the gift you gave him is cursed somehow."

"I did not say 'cursed,'" he muttered darkly. "I said 'nothing but trouble.' No offense, Havoc, but next year, go with something different."

Grimacing, Havoc headed back toward his desk. "Duly noted, Boss. What happened?"

Dropping unceremoniously into his desk chair, Mustang indicated his Lieutenant. "Everyone else was busy; I invited Hawkeye out for drinks on Solstice Eve using a few of the certificates. The bartender tried to dose her drink and leave her for the birds."

"What?!"

"Funny; that's what I said," Riza deadpanned. "To make it up to me, the Colonel then decided that maybe he owed me dinner." Her wry smile didn't reach her eyes. "Aerugonian takeout gave us both food poisoning."

"Add to that the anti-military attitude of two restaurants, a first-degree burn from scalding hot coffee, and a health violation awarded to one of the nicest places in that booklet…?" Roy shook his head, swivelling slowly back and forth in the chair. "You can see why I'm reluctant to use any more of them."

Havoc opened his mouth to apologize… before abruptly changing his mind and heading for the door. "I feel bad for you, Boss, I really do… but if I want to stop anything like that happening to anyone else, I've got a call to make. And we might want to check in on the others."

Hawkeye's eyebrows shot up as her gaze followed him to the door. "…. You didn't."

"Didn't what — give one to each of the other guys? Yeah." He paused in the doorway. "And one to my mother. I'll be right back…."


End file.
